


Unraveling Fate

by Sakhyu



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Self-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-12 06:03:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9058789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sakhyu/pseuds/Sakhyu
Summary: In which a violinist wakes up in the three-year-old body of one Katsuki Yuuri, and well, say goodbye to the pre-destined canon ending. Oh boy. /self-insert!Yuuri/





	1. the end is just as abrupt as the beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Nope, totally don't own the YOI masterpiece, unfortunately.

_._

_._

_._

_"Hey," my best friend said softly, on the night of our graduation. "If you got a chance to start over, what would you do?"_

_Which, in other words, was basically: what do you regret?_

_"Hmm," I hummed softly, tune reminiscent of Rachmaninoff's Vocalise. It was a bizarre question to be asked, especially on such a night of beginnings and ends. But I decided to humor my friend. I always did._

_"Well, I don't know. Probably learn all the things I now regret not learning. Like dancing. And skating. Yeah, that. Even though you tried your best to teach me, I still can't move on the ice!"_

_"Ha! You can still learn now, you know."_

_Oh, but I did know. Between my studies and my hobby in music, between keeping up with my dreary social life and with my much more exciting fandoms, where could I find the chance to learn something new? Dancing was also something I've always wanted to learn too._

_"Maybe," I demurred with a soft smile, already getting up from my chair to join the rest of the party._

_Maybe, but probably not. I wouldn't have the time for that now, right?_

_._

_._

_._

* * *

"Everything turns in circles and spirals with the cosmic heart until infinity. Everything has a vibration that spirals inward or outward — and everything turns together in the same direction at the same time. This vibration keeps going: it becomes born and expands or closes and destructs — only to repeat the cycle again in opposite current. Like a lotus, it opens or closes, dies and is born again. Such is also the story of the sun and moon, of me and you. Nothing truly dies. All energy simply transforms."

― Suzy Kassem

* * *

I stared blankly at the . . . my . . . reflection in the mirror.

A . . . chubby child stared back at me.

Um. Wow. Speechless could not even cover what I currently felt.

. . . So, okay. Granted, it took a few years, a few confusing years, for the _memories_ to start kicking in. But eventually everything was slated into place where they suddenly _clicked_ , and now, well.

"Hello," I said quietly to the tiny boy in the mirror. His small mouth copied my own as his round eyes widened with growing horror. "Hello. I am Katsuki Yuuri, and I am three years old."

Silence.

Well, not complete silence. Mari-neechan was yelling something about being low on eggs to Mama ― _Mother? But . . . I already had a mother . . ._ ― while customers bustled downstairs with jolly laughter. It was the background music I heard every single day since I was born.

.

.

.

It felt _new_. Could someone's life really change so drastically in such little time?

"Hello, I am Katsuki Yuuri and I am three years old."

My voice hitched, and well, despite my desperation, the repeated words did not make them seem any more true. Ignoring the scalding hot tears (traitors!) that dripped down my face, I leaned over to press my small palms into my eyes.

And then, against my better judgement, I let the dam completely burst. Because though I was Katsuki Yuuri, I was now, in any case . . . in that quiet moment of weakness, I was only myself.

I would be Katsuki Yuuri in a few hours, or maybe in a couple of minutes. But for now, I was only a small child mourning for something I had unfortunately lost.

* * *

It hadn't been surprising, exactly, but I still felt as though I was in a state of shock as I stood in the music store. My pleas to start violin lessons ―not that I would really need them― and maybe dance, too, Mama, had been met with enthusiastic agreement despite my very young age. Even Mari-neechan, who usually teased me about these things, had been strangely supportive.

In any case, I was happy. Violin was a familiar presence in the sea of uncertainty, and I was happy to have it back. I was also happy to start dance as well, even though I doubted I would do well.

(I very carefully did not think about my name, or the bizarre interest in figure skating from, well, everybody. And no, I did not search up 'Viktor Russian skater' in different variations on my search bar.

No, I most certainly did not.)

* * *

I was four when I met Yuuko and Takeshi. It, um, they, could be summarized in a few short words. Like:

Yuuko was painfully nice. Takeshi was painfully, well, not.

The end.

. . .

Okay, okay, fine. Sheesh, I'll elaborate a bit more.

So, the meeting. Well, I met Yuuko and Takeshi at school. At first, I didn't even know who they were, especially since we were all in different grades. Even their names didn't ring any bells, at least not for a while.

But then, during lunch one day, Yuuko bounded toward my corner in which I was squirreled away with a book. Strangely, because I could remember how at this age boys usually stuck to boys, Takeshi followed her.

"'ello!" A girl cried, a slight lisp to her words. I found it almost strange. The girl looked far older than me and she still had a lisp? "Can' I si' wit' you?"

The boy beside her grumbled something under his breath and gave me a menacing stare, as if he was trying to force me to agree. Or, well, it would have been menacing if it hadn't came from a five year old brat.

"S-Sure," I said in a daze, a bit belatedly. It was the first time someone had decided to come talk to ' _Boring Yuuri_ ', and I was more than a bit bewildered. "H-Hello, my name is Yuuri."

The girl perked up, even if the boy groaned softly. "M' name is Yuuko! He's Take'."

"Takeshi," the boy corrected, rolling his eyes. Again, I wondered why on Earth the boy was following the girl around. Were they siblings?

"Nice to meet you," I responded politely as I gave them a small smile.

And the rest, as they said, were history.

Yuuko was a bundle of energy and happiness, and Takeshi was her surly companion. With them, despite the slight ribbing I had to endure from other students or sometimes even Takeshi himself, I was happy. It was fun being with them, and with that epiphany I stuffed my screeching brain (that kept yelling about how 'it was _fate_!') into the farthest corner of my mind.

I was happy, and that was all that mattered.

* * *

I was five ― _five_!― when I won my first violin competition. I was five and already blasting through Paginini's Caprice Number 16, in a nice hall in Toyko. I was five when I received my first gold medal, the bitter whispers of 'genius' billowing around my back.

I was five when I wondered if canon Viktor had always felt as lonely as I did, holding up my violin with a medal around my neck.

* * *

I was six when I decided to start to skate. It hadn't been a magnanimous decision, or even one because of, well, who I was. It was strangely innocent, to be honest.

"Yuuu _uuuuuri_ ," Yuuko whined, lisp long gone and looking unfairly pretty. "You already do ballet! It's the same thing!"

"Yeah," I retorted as I rolled my eyes. "Except I'll be _on ice_. I'll break my _neck_."

I had plenty of evidence for that happening too. I remembered, in a different life, when my friend tried teaching me how to skate. My friend, who had a job as a skating coach in the city. My friend, who was totally certified to teach toddlers how to skate.

My friend, who only prevented me from getting bruises by being my very own pillow as I tumbled and fell. I totally failed, crashed and burned. I even brought my friend down with me. That was how bad I was.

"I won't let you break your neck!" Yuuko cried, sounding indignant. "Takeshi won't let that happen either!"

Which . . . was a lie. I shared an exasperated look with the boy himself, before he remembered he was supposed to glare at me.

In any case, I started skating that week. It . . . did not go that well, as expected of my clumsiness. Thankfully, Yuuko was as stubborn as a mule, and Takeshi was plenty stubborn himself, so neither gave up on my non-existent skills of skating. It was exhilarating and . . . _fun_.

I loved it. Completely. Even the bruises on my feet were worth the few minutes of flying on ice.

* * *

I was seven, and I had already won another three gold medals. From violin, of course. They were all small awards, nothing major, but already my name was starting to show up every now and then in the national news.

'Viktor Russian skater' was also getting some results, all in Russian unfortunately. However, the images of a young teen with long, silver hair, accompanied the various articles.

Hmm.

Viktor. Viktor Nikiforov.

* * *

I was nine and I was currently being smothered to death by Yuuko. Takeshi glaring at me really did not help.

"Y-Yuuko," I gasped, feeling the air in my lungs lessen even more. "I-I'll be fine!"

It was my first international competition for violin, and surprise surprise, it was going to be in Canada. I held a special spot in my heart for Canada, especially since that was the country I had lived in, once upon a time. So needless to say, I was ecstatic about visiting.

Well, I _was_ ecstatic. Now I was just wondering if I would live to see the maple trees once again.

"Yuuri," Yuuko sniffed, looking sad. "You'll take lots a pictures and send us messages, right?"

"You better," Takeshi grumbled under his breath. I sighed.

"Of course I will, Yuuko! I'll only be gone for two weeks anyway . . ."

Yuuko's eyes watered again.

U-Uh oh. I blanched. That was the wrong thing to say.

"Yuu _uuri_!"

.

.

.

The competition itself hadn't been super interesting. I had won gold once again, though this time the score I had received from the adjudicator was quite close to second place. Reminding myself to practice more once I got home, I had begged my violin teacher, who had came with me, to let me go to the nearby rink. I had even brought my skates on this trip, just so I could try skating somewhere other than the skating rink Yuuko's family owned.

When my violin teacher finally relented, I was dropped off at the nearest skating rink. I had quickly gone through all the procedures before finally, I was stepping on to the ice, and―

A little boy, probably half my age, crashed into me.

"Ah!" I cried, surprised as I steadied myself and grabbed the boy so he wouldn't face-plant on the ice. "A-Are you okay?"

Thankfully, my English was top-notch. Actually, I was pretty sure that my English was a few times better than my Japanese, unfortunately.

The boy shook his head in a daze before looking up. Strangely, he looked slightly familiar. "Yes! Oh, hi, are you new?"

"Huh?" Blinking, I ran the words through my head and, oh. Was the boy a regular at this ice rink? "Yes, I'm only here for today."

"Aw," the boy pouted, before his eyes lighted up once more. "Then would you skate with me today? Momma and Papa are at bu-sy-ness today, so I'm alone!"

I melted and readily agreed. The little boy was a manipulator. I swore that when he grew up, he would have girls draped over his arms.

"Yay!" The child exclaimed, before flashing me a sunny smile. "What's your name, Miss? I'm double J, Jean-Jacques!"

. . .

 _Oh_. So that was why he seemed familiar. But first things first . . .

My smile twitched. "Um, my name is Yuuri, and I'm a guy."

* * *

I was ten, and I was watching Viktor Nikiforov take the world by the storm.

Well, he was going to take the world soon, I just knew it. At the moment, Viktor was only in the Junior Grand Prix Final, but he was still _amazing_.

As for me, well. By then, my trophy count for music had increased exponentially, though I still wasn't an internet sensation like Viktor. After all, music was not as popular as figure skating in this world, and even then there was less fangirl-ing about the musicians and more emphasis on the music itself.

But like music, I adored skating. I really did. And I was rather good as well, despite not entering any competitions. So . . .

" _There we have it, ladies and gentlemen! Viktor Nikiforov, gold medalist!_ "

I wanted that.

.

.

.

I got a skating coach the very next week.

* * *

I was twelve, and I stood corrected. No, Viktor did not just take the world. He stomped over it and turned it absolutely upside-down.

Beside me, Yuuko squealed over Viktor's lovely silver hair, and how his flower crown brought out the blue of his eyes. Takeshi remained mostly disgruntled, but both of us exchanged an exasperated glance, despite my own flushed cheeks. There was no doubt that we would be both dragged into buying Viktor merchandise online, or corralled into trying his program.

(Years have passed, and now Takeshi and I had more of an understanding: Yuuko was the goddess, and we were her loyal henchmen. So we sympathized with each other a lot. Or at least, I was very sympathetic for him. After all, it was Takeshi who was going to be married to Yuuko and whipped, not me. I was going to―

. . . Never-mind.)

"Ne, ne," Yuuko exclaimed, eyes sparkling with delight. "Wouldn't it be awesome if we could skate like Viktor? Right, Yuuri?"

". . ." I stared at the cascading silver and the royal blue, before glancing at my feet. My own tiny feet, swathed in thick and white bandages.

 _What was I doing?_ Back then, I was never the athlete. I was never the sporty one, and I never chased the back of my idol.

To be honest, back then, I never even had an idol.

". . . Yeah," I murmured quietly, eyes flickering back to fixate on Viktor's bright smile. "Yeah, that would be cool."

That night, I looked up junior skating competitions in Japan.

* * *

I was thirteen and I placed First in the Sendai International Music Competition. I took the prize money, gave it to my mother, and told her very seriously that I wanted to study abroad for both skating and music and my regular academic studies.

Two months later, youthful Celestino Cialdini led me through the airport station after he picked me up, chattering brightly about my skills as a skater.

I no longer had a violin teacher.

* * *

_See, at the fundamental level, I was similar to canon Katsuki Yuuri. At least I was now._

_Ahem. Once upon a time, I was a hard worker._

_Who was lazy._

_. . . A contradiction, sure, but still very true. I was a good student with a very good memory, and I would spend hours at a time doing word problems, or reading my textbook for the fourth time before a test. I would practice violin until my fingers ached and tingled, my pinkie sometimes even swollen. I was a perfectionist, determined to do everything to the best of my abilities. To the eyes of others, I was an extremely hard worker._

_But on the flip side, I slacked away a lot. I spent hours of time on my computer, pushing off any homework to be done last minute. I was a horrible procrastinator._

_I wasn't anymore, however._

_Now, I may have embraced canon Katsuki Yuuri's work mentalities. Every free moment I had was spent on the ice, or with my music. If I have any time in between, I would spend some time on my studies, which were going swimmingly despite how I didn't really study much. Like I said, my memory was very good, and apparently it was good enough that I could still remember things like Watson and Crick and Rosalind Franklin from beyond the grave._

_As to why I was doing this . . . . well. Despite what we think, us humans . . . we don't have much time. I learnt that the hard way, and it wasn't a nice lesson. To be given this second chance . . ._

_I would be damned if I left with any regrets._

_But though I was similar to canon Katsuki Yuuri in that aspect, I was different in every other way. Sure, I got terrible stage fright, but I managed to deal with it much better than what canon Yuuri did. Probably helped that I was, well, dead once, so nothing could ever really faze me again. I loved dogs, but my love was different from canon Yuuri's. After all, I was terrified of them. So my darling Vicchan wasn't bought because I wanted to become more like a certain Russian skater, but because I wanted to get over my fear of dogs (it was only partially working)._

_And Viktor. In my previous life, like any other fan, I coo'd over the character._ Oh, if only he was real! _I would sigh dreamily. But now that he was . . . and now that I had the chance to make sure canon played out the way it did . . ._

 _I was_ disgusted _. I didn't want to be an actor in Fate's play. I didn't want to be nervous-wreck Yuuri, who only caught the eyes of his idol because of his drunken dancing after he bombed his one big chance. I didn't . . . I didn't . . ._

 _I didn't want my future to be set in stone. I loved canon Yuuri as much as any fan did, but-but. I didn't want to be_ him _. So, for better or for worse . . ._

_I decided to try my best to change my future._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Guess what fandom I got sucked into? This is a totally self-indulgent fic, and well, let's see where it lead us, m'kay?


	2. reality is harsh, but that's okay

"Yuuri?" A warm hand landed onto my tense shoulder. Stiffly turning my head, I gave my coach a wry smile as I fiddled with my phone.

"Coach," I greeted softly. With a sound of triumph, I finally found and opened the soundtrack for my short program. "What are you doing here?"

Celestino gave my phone a very unimpressed look. Biting down a sheepish grin, I put my distraction away before giving the man my full attention.

"Yuuri," Celestino said again, this time with a more gentler tone. "How do you feel?"

How did I feel? Hmm, how did I feel, one sleep away from tomorrow's skating competition? And the Japanese Qualifying competitions, to boot?

Ashgdjkdgkgh.

Ahem. Did my coach want a pretty lie, or the truth?

"Yuuri?"

Well, my coach was always very supportive, so it wouldn't be fair to him if I lied when he was only trying to help. Ugh. The truth it was.

"I feel like I'm about to throw up," I responded with a convincing bright smile as I twiddled my numb fingers. If they were shaking, well, nobody needed to know. "Do . . . Do you think I'm ready?"

Silence. And then that warm hand from before was no longer on my shoulder but ruffling my hair.

"Of course, Yuuri!" Celestino gave me a big grin before continuing in a teasing tone. "Worrying is natural, but please be more confident. I wouldn't let you do this if I didn't think you weren't ready."

Despite the seemingly harsh words, I only felt myself relaxing in relief. I trusted Celestino's words, because my violin teacher, the one from _Before,_ was the same. No teacher would push the impossible onto their students, and especially not when they cared for them a lot.

( _No teacher would want to see their beloved baby students crash and burn. Celestino especially, with his hands-on methods. How terrible did Celestino feel in canon, after Yuuri had failed so horribly?_ )

"You should go to sleep, Yuuri," Celestino, AKA my resident mother-hen, clicked his tongue before pulling me up from the bench. Amused, I let the man manhandle me into his warm car before staring out of the window.

I was fourteen. I still had time, if you considered the events and the timeline of the canon story. Eight years of time.

Then again, following canon had never been an option.

* * *

"In life, you can either hate yourself or like yourself. If you choose to hate yourself, your life will be miserable and if you choose to like yourself, there is no limit to what you can accomplish."

―Abdulazeez Henry Musa

* * *

My coach was wonderful, wonderful, _wonderful_.

Zip, zap, end of story.

Even if it was Fate who had made us meet, well, despite my hatred for Fate I wouldn't care in this regard. Celestino was awesome and the canon anime really didn't do him enough justice.

Despite his very busy schedule, as in he had a skating club to coach and run, Celestino still came along to support me at the Japan Figure Skating Championships. Come to think of it, my current dance teacher (and yes, this was probably Fate's work too), Minako-sensei, also promised to be somewhere in the crowds.

Taking in a deep breath, I followed my coach into the building even as I craned my head to see everything I could. The surroundings were all new and interesting, and were nothing like the churches or concert halls I usually find myself in for my music competitions. People milled around, all carrying stuffed animals or flowers or banners, and, well.

I was so excited.

I was also nervous as hell.

"Yuuri," Celestino murmured softly in English as he bent down to my ear. "Calm down."

Easier said than done. I sighed but nodded dutifully.

We both signed in before heading over to the benches. I eyed the other competitors nervously. It seemed that this time, I was the youngest skater at fourteen. The other competitors looked to be in their late teens at least. Hearing my name being called, I went up to pick a ballot from the box in order to determine the order.

And hey! I was first!

Which I actually liked, unlike canon Yuuri. Because one, you could get it over with, especially since I was the type to get more nervous as time went on. And two, if I did really well, I could psyche out the other competitors!

. . . Ha ha, I never did say I was kind, right?

As the other skaters got called up while I sat down, I took a deep breath and closed my eyes.

This was real. This was happening.

I was Katsuki Yuuri, and I was ready for this.

* * *

 

> Sports News
> 
> # FIGURE SKATING DARK HORSE?
> 
> _**Dec. XX. 20XX.** _
> 
> ## A dark horse emerged from Asia as Japan brings forth fifteen-year-old Yuuri Katsuki, bronze medalist of the Cup of China and silver medalist of Skate Canada.
> 
> [image] [image]
> 
> There's a new surprise on the horizon and that surprise is Japan's dark horse, Yuuri Katsuki, who recently turned fifteen years old and is already wowing audiences with his senior debut. With his qualification for the ISU Grand Prix Final, the Japanese community has started to call Mr. Katsuki Japan's Ace, a sentiment that is echoed even by the other countries.
> 
> Mr. Katsuki's current coach of two years is Celestino Cialdini, thirty-seven and the esteemed coach of the Detroit Skating Club. His former coach, Miss [. . .]
> 
> .
> 
> .
> 
> .
> 
> ######  _ (read more) _

 

 

 

 

> ### 
> 
> #  YUKA✡, Top Violinist, and Now Top Figure Skater?
> 
> _**Dec. XX. 20XX.** _
> 
> ##  _Dun dun dunnnn. Katsuki Yuuri, or more commonly known to his musical fans as YUKA✡, has qualified for the ISU Grand Prix Final!_
> 
> [image]
> 
> _hover to listen to YUKA_ _✡'s recording of Caprice 16 by Paginini_
> 
> Who says you can't have both brawn and brains? As a household name in classical music, Katsuki Yuuri proves this saying wrong with his surprise qualification for the 20XX ISU Grand Prix Final!
> 
> YUKA✡ is a fifteen-year-old Japanese violinist with numerous awards under his belt. His current violin, the USD$3.6 million Molitor Stradivarius, was a gift from his last teacher.
> 
> Personally, I think Katsuki Yuuri is amazing and that he should continue being a figure skater despite his musical background. It's not like he can't do both at once, right? But what do you guys think? Feel free to discuss in the comments section!
> 
> _._
> 
> _._
> 
> _._
> 
> #####  _248 comments_
> 
> Sort: by date
> 
> ###### . . . Write a comment . . .

* * *

I was fifteen and _oh my god I was going to be sick._

"Yuuri," Celestino said beside me, sounding quite worried. "Please breathe."

Obediently, I took a deep breath before letting it out. It unfortunately did not make me feel any less lightheaded.

Who was it that decided to go for their Senior Division debut now? Who decided that 'fudge canon, I don't want to be a late bloomer!' and decided to throw themselves into the beginnings of competitive figure skating when they were only ten? Who decided that they absolutely needed to go to the skating rink, only two days before their first _Grand Prix Final_ competition?

(It was really a miracle I had qualified. I had gotten in by the skin of my teeth, and I meant that quite literally. Really literally. If one of the top competitors hadn't suddenly withdrew from the season because of an injury, I wouldn't have stood a chance.)

That's right; the idiot who decided all of that was me.

"Oh my god," I forced out through straining gasps, weakly waving a hand at my panicking coach. "I am an idiot. And you really reap what you sow."

Before me, lovely Viktor Nikiforov danced across Tokyo ice, and really, this was another reason why I, unlike canon Yuuri, liked to go first. Seeing my competitors before my own performance only made me even more terrified than I already was.

Seeing _Viktor_ , of all people. Well. Goodbye, land of the living.

None of the other competitors seemed to be as enamored with Viktor's performance as I was, with the exception (to a lesser degree) of perhaps Christophe Giacometti. This was normal, however, as Viktor was currently not the fifth-consecutive GPF gold medalist. No, Viktor had just recently entered the senior division, in which the podium was occupied by three older skaters in a tug-of-war fashion.

Nobody knew what I currently knew. Nobody knew who Viktor would become one day, and I was probably the only one who was staring at what I thought to be a living legend. A living legend who was currently skating across the ice in a completely breath-taking manner.

"Yuuri?!" Celestino sounded faintly alarmed now. "You're forgetting to breathe again."

. . .

Oh my god. I was so doomed.

* * *

_._

_._

_._

_"Moshi moshi? Ah, Mari-oneechan! It's late, shouldn't you be sleeping?"_

_. . ._

_"Who, me? No, I feel completely fine . . . ha ha ha. You know me so well."_

_. . ._

_"WHAT? You guys are having a public viewing at the onsen? Ahh, I feel so embarrassed! Pfft . . . Of course Minako-sensei is heading it!"_

_. . ._

_"Oh."_

_. . ._

_"Hng . . . sniff, ngh."_

_. . ._

_"Sniff . . . thank . . . thank you . . ."_

_. . ._

_"O-Okay, I will. Goodnight, nee-chan."_

_. . ._

_Click._

* * *

Even though I wasn't canon Yuuri, somehow, I still became obsessed with one Viktor Nikiforov.

Oh, the irony.

At first, it was because I was curious as to who the heart throb of the anime was. Who was the amazing Viktor Nikiforov, the one who canon Yuuri had looked up to for years? Who was that man, the skating idol, in my world? In real life?

Afterwards, after I had gotten my answer ( _he's real, Viktor's real, real, so real_ ), my stalker-ish tendencies became worse. Instead of being just curious to who Viktor was, I became obsessed with his skating. His beautiful, beautiful skating; so different from my own. Viktor became less of that silly man with the heart-shaped smile who had once took over my television screen, and more of a skating God.

Now, I was slightly ashamed to find that my feelings of worship for Viktor echoed canon Yuuri's. Wasn't it funny how Fate seemed to work?

"Yuuri, here."

Blinking out of my daze, I looked up as my coach plopped a small hot water bottle onto my lap. It had a cute cover, one that was filled with music notation.

"Warm up your hands."

I felt a burst of fondness for Celestino, even as I shakily hugged the water bottle to my chest. The reason for my coach's strange words was because of my hands, which were freezing again. It was a normal occurrence that happened whenever I was nervous, and it seemed that Celestino had remembered.

"How do you feel?" The man asked me as we watched the top contender of this year dance a gorgeous step sequence across the ice. "You seem . . . tense."

Pfft. 'Tense' was a complete understatement.

"My legs feel like they're made out of jello and my hands are ice cold," I responded in a despairing monotone as the top contender aced his triple axel. "I just . . . Ugh."

Giving up since the roar of applause from the ice rink upped my nerves once more, I dug out my phone and a pair of earphones. Maybe I should just follow canon Yuuri's example and stop watching the other contenders . . . even if their short programs looked amazing and I would probably regret it after I got mine's over with.

Plugging in my earphones, I closed my eyes as the chatter from the competition faded away and _White Legend_ from Swan Lake filled my ears. Ahh, Tchaikovsky never failed to cheer me up and boost my confidence. Focusing on the piece, I visually imagined my choreography as I got up and stretched languidly.

Both my short program and my free skate maximized my strong points while covering up my weak ones. Celestino and I originally created my program as a way to test out the waters of the senior division. Even in my wildest dreams, I would have never thought I would qualify for this year's Grand Prix Final. Which was why, when I found out I qualified, well. Both me and Celestino went nuts trying to devise a way to give me even just a small, fighting chance.

As I was only fifteen, and fourteen when Celestino and I figured out the choreography, I didn't have a single quad to my name. Though I was at first reluctant about having no quads, it didn't take much for me to relent against Celestino's wisdom, and well, the wisdom of my medical textbook. Quads were dangerous to younger skaters, and I . . . understood. I wanted to keep skating for as long as I could, so I didn't want to ruin my chances now.

That also meant that I was at a severe disadvantage. Christophe, at eighteen, already had one quad in his repertoire (though he only executed it with a 50% chance of success), and Viktor could already do two quads perfectly at nineteen. The other three competitors, strong contenders for the podium, had three.

So. What me and my coach decided was, well, again a leaf we took out of canon Yuuri's book.

All, and I meant _all_ , of my jumps were in the latter part of my program, in an attempt to score me higher points. Luckily, the presentation portion of my program was something I had faith in; whenever I wanted to relax, I would dance across the ice. So things like step sequences came easy to me, especially after I practiced them so much.

It wasn't a winning program, for sure. Even if I executed them perfectly. But at this point, a fighting chance was the best I could get, and I was determined to make most of it. In any case, this Grand Prix Final was already an amazing experience.

Someone patted my knee, and I opened my eyes. Taking out one earbud, my heart dropped to my stomach when Celestino hugged me reassuringly.

"It's your turn now, Yuuri."

* * *

"Yuuri," Celestino took the hot water bottle from my shaking hands and flashed me a bright smile. "Go get them."

I gave my coach a wobbly smile before moving to the ice. The lights blinded me as I skated out to meet the exuberant cries of the audience, and my breath stuttered in my chest.

_Was I really doing this?_

I skated to the center of the rink and got into my starting position.

_I was._

As the first notes graced the air, I moved. Surprisingly enough, I felt the worries I had drain away as I closed my eyes and let my body do the work. White Legend was very familiar to me, as in, I've both danced to the ballet music and played a solo arrangement of it on my violin. Adding graceful movements on ice and moving in perfect harmony to the music . . . was _easy_.

Maybe that was why my presentation scores were always so high.

I danced my circular step sequence before launching myself into a pearl spin. Following that, I languidly moved my body into my spin combination, and welp, started mentally saying some prayers.

Ha ha. I wasn't joking.

After all, it was time for the jump portion of my program. Thankfully, I didn't even start feeling winded yet. Yuuri's stamina was really amazing.

Launching myself smoothing into a triple lutz, I landed cleanly before dancing some connecting steps and throwing myself into a triple axel. My jumps were timed perfectly with the swells of the music, and I smiled softly before taking in a deep breath to mentally prepare myself.

Then I began my triple jump combination. Perhaps it was because it was the only part of my short program I dreaded, but I came out of my second jump with a shaky landing. I might be given a small penalty, but it wasn't too big of a mistake, thank god.

With my jumps down, there were only two more elements left. Moving through another step sequence, this time a serpentine one, I finished off my whole performance with a lovely clam spin before striking my final pose.

The roars of the audience were overwhelming as I desperately breathed to get some much-needed oxygen into my lungs. And then, I realized.

I . . . I did it.

I _did_ it.

. . .

Ha, take _that_ canon!

* * *

.

.

.

"I'm still so proud of you," Celestino said softly even as I stared blankly at the results. "You did amazing, Yuuri, and I'm not just saying that."

Sooooo, I ended up in last place. Aha. Maybe it was karma, for trying to get one over Fate.

In any case, I wasn't feeling too upset, to be honest. Even though the scores I had gotten were my best yet, they really couldn't compare to the scores of the seasoned skaters in the competition. My combined score was also quite close to fifth place, unlike canon Yuuri's disastrous first GPF. And I had gotten something out of this whole competition as well: very good experience.

Chris had surprisingly landed both his Quads in his Short Program and his Free Skate, and snagged fifth place. On the other hand, Viktor. Amazing, _amazing_ Viktor had performed a gorgeous program and snagged a _silver_ , and got a spot on the podium. First was taken by the top contender, and the other two spots left were given to the other two seasoned skaters. I was sure that the skater with fourth was feeling miffed about not making the podium for once.

"Yeah," I said firmly, pushing away any doubts. I did good, and my performance was nothing to be ashamed about. Smiling in thanks, I nodded. "Yeah, I know."

Sure, I was feeling a bit upset that I didn't prepare a better program, but I wasn't Yuri Plisetsky who could snatch a gold at the GPF when he was only fifteen. I wish I was that awesome, ugh, but I was honest to myself and knew I couldn't do that. I wasn't a skating genius. And to be honest, with Viktor as my competition, I doubted I would be able to snatch a gold anytime soon.

But, well, I could certainly try my best.

"Can we go sightseeing before the banquet?" I asked, a bit excited. I've never gone to Tokyo before, and it was on my, well, _Before_ bucket list. Funny I was only getting to it after I was buried six feet under.

Celestino nodded, looking pleasantly surprised, before he started calling a taxi. Relaxing into my seat, I sighed in contentment.

I was fifteen, and I still had time.

A lot of time, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Please suggest tags! I'm so bad with them.
> 
> edit: weeps whoops the Yahoo and MusicalWorld slogans disappeared but they're fixed now ashgfhg


	3. success only comes from countless failures

The banquet afterwards was nice, if not a little bit . . . dull, for the lack of better words. I, for one, certainly did not get drunk on God knows how many champagne glasses like Yuuri once did in the canon anime.

Well, it was more like I didn't really get the chance to. Not that I was fond of underage drinking, but the Overprotective Mama Bear Celestino had been keeping a very, very close eye on me.

Extremely close. As in, arms-length close.

To be honest, I really didn't understand how the events of canon even happened in the first place. You would have thought that Celestino would have been all over canon!Yuuri before he started stripping and challenging genius skaters to dance-offs, that was for sure.

Sighing in slight boredom, I nursed my half-full glass of mango smoothie and smiled pleasantly at the kind (and not-so-kind) remarks of the people around me. Ahh, the intricacies of making nice with your sponsors. Thankfully, my coach had taken pity on me (AKA, I flashed him my best puppy-eyes) and thus did most of the talking. I only had to stand there and look like a pretty wallflower, or deal with the people who could only speak Japanese . . .

We were in Tokyo, so most of the local sponsors there had cheered _me_ on. However, there were a few who were a bit, uh, _miffed_ that I had placed last, as if I had actually stood a chance against the senior skaters with no Quads in the first place.

Well. The way some people transformed relatively sweet words into something poisonous was quite interesting, in the very least. I had been almost impressed, and it was my main source of entertainment for most of the banquet.

My other source of entertainment, well, was the other skaters. And by the other skaters, I mean, mainly, you guessed it. I stole a few glances of Viktor and Chris during the party, as they chatted with each other while their coaches exchanged some words. There were a few moments where I felt tempted to go over and join them, but then Celestino was moving away from our corner and I abandoned that thought to follow him. Anyway, Viktor and Chris probably didn't even know who I was.

When Celestino had finally made his rounds and I finally failed to resist my boredom, I begged my coach to let us leave. And like I said, Celestino was a wonderful, _wonderful_ coach, because though I was sure he had wanted to mingle a bit longer, the man obliged my selfish request.

Ugh, I wondered how Viktor lived through all of those unexciting banquets in canon. They were even more uninteresting compared to my musical ones, and that was saying something. Though then again, my musical ones had a bunch of my friends present, but at the Grand Prix Final banquet, I could only exchange words to the sponsors.

And they weren't all nice words, too.

Despite the cacophony of sounds surrounding me, it felt a bit . . . lonely. And not for the first time, I felt incredibly jealous of Viktor as he stood with Chris, his laughter echoing into the room like the tinkling sound of graceful wind bells.

* * *

"You must make a decision that you are going to move on. It wont happen automatically. You will have to rise up and say, 'I don't care how hard this is, I don't care how disappointed I am, I'm not going to let this get the best of me. I'm moving on with my life.'"  
― Joel Osteen

* * *

I was sixteen, and I . . .

". . . am dying," I groaned as I dropped my chemistry textbook, letting it fall onto my face with a thump. Struggling to see past the blurred images of _organic chemistry, kill me now_ , I took a glance at my trusty clock.

And oh, wow. The glowing numbers that blinked back at me made me freeze in alarm. It was currently three in the afternoon.

Um.

I may or may have forgotten to eat lunch in my five hour cram session.

. . . Time sure passed fast when your soul was being slowly sucked out of your body via the joys of chemistry. In any case, Celestino was going to _kill_ me.

Quickly, I rolled out of bed before searching my closet for some comfortable clothes. Practice started at four for me that week, but if I didn't eat lunch beforehand my Mama Coach was going to make me eat during my skating time. And that was a big no-no. So, I had to change, get ready, and stuff a decent lunch down my throat before rushing to the rink. Because somehow, Celestino would always tell if I didn't eat properly that day.

As for why I was a miserable bundle on my bed, it was, well, because I was studying for my exam. Fun, right?

Well, let me inform you, it _wasn't_. If I was in a lower grade level, I probably wouldn't even care about my marks that much, but it was my senior year. I was applying to universities and colleges and I had pride in my grades, unfortunately.

But yeah. I was already taking senior courses. I didn't necessarily skip grades, I just. Used all of my electives to fast-track classes, and with the addition of summer-schooling, night school, and online schooling, voilà, I had enough credits to graduate by my sophomore year.

Which was pretty awesome, because I really wanted to get a degree in Medicine (shush, I may be an amazing violinist and I may become a top figure skater, but that had once been my dream _Before_ , okay?) and now I could get it early. Which was great, seeing how many years I had to wait in order to get my hands on it. And yes, dying and coming back to life and the years after that counted, alright?

To be honest, making everything work was hard, and it was an understatement to say my schedule was jam-packed. I was adamant about learning everything I wanted to try _Before_ , and if I didn't have enough time, I _made_ time. I woke up extra early to play violin, to somehow manage at least four hours of practice everyday. I did some light ballet practice after, before I gobbled down meals quickly so I could use the extra time to skate. Afternoons were when I would spend hours in the rink with my coach. After that, at nighttime, I studied slightly to keep up with my grades. Sure, doing the courses once helped a lot, but the curriculum in the States was a bit different from what I was once used to in Canada.

Whenever I had more time, squeezed out of my hands like reluctant water from a sponge, I used it to do other hobbies. I tried out fencing, archery. I took Aikido for a few years when I was still living in Japan . . . to be honest, that might be the only reason my parents let me leave home.

My life right now wasn't something I had imagined when I first found out I was living in the Yuri on Ice! universe. But that was okay.

I was happy.

.

.

.

( _Was I?_ )

* * *

Perhaps it was just as well, but I didn't make it to the Grand Prix Final that year. The top contender from before, the one who had taken the last season off due to an injury, got that honor.

Ha. It wasn't really unexpected, to be honest. Why? Well, though there was one Quad in my program now, my toe-loop (added after Celestino and my doctor gave me the okay), but, well. Let us just say that I landed it with a percentage less than Chris' chances from the year before. It was really quite unfortunate, and if I had switched it out with my triple, I might have gotten a higher score.

Then again, I was still young, and if I couldn't get down my Quads now, I would never be able to stand a chance when I was older. When it mattered. So there really wasn't much I could do about it. Other than practice, practice, and more practice, that is.

Ha ha, the words 'sweat, blood, and tears' have never made more sense. 'No pain no gain' also took on a whole new meaning since I started to skate competitively.

"Popcorn?"

So now, here I was, huddled on my coach's couch as we both watched the Grand Prix Final. Taking a generous handful of the snack, I happily waved goodbye to my diet as I stuffed half of it into my mouth. Hey, if my coach was indulging me for once, who was I to refuse?

Especially when on the screen, beautiful, beautiful Viktor glided across the ice. On the screen. When I could have been watching this, live. My eyes tracked the movement of his long, shining hair even as one of my hands tugged on my own braid.

Huh, braid? Did I not explain that yet? Well, okay, remember awkward, forever-young looking canon!Yuuri? The one with the fluffy short hair, the sparkly brown eyes and the chubby cheeks? Yeah. We may have the same body (though I was starting to doubt that as well), but we looked quite different.

For one, I didn't really have his ability to get as chubby. Perhaps it was because, well, I didn't like rice. The big bowls of Katsudon you see in the anime? I would probably only manage to eat half of that, and it wouldn't be the rice part. On the other hand, I really adore eating fruits, so yeah. Add in my vigorous workouts, and I had a pretty slim figure.

(I still loved Katsudon with a passion, though. It was just so awesome, especially my mother's recipe.)

As for my braid, well. When you have a packed schedule like mine, it was hard to find time to go to the barber every month. And my hair grew _really_ fast. Before long, I just, well, let it grew. Now it was probably longer than the shimmering waterfall that cascaded down Viktor's back, though I made sure to always keep it in a thin, tight braid. Even in my life _Before_ , I never got used to not tying my hair up.

"Don't worry Yuuri," my coach said suddenly, out of the blue. Blinking in surprise, I looked up to see Celestino watching the television screen somberly, before he swiftly turned his head to give me a firm stare. "I'll get you there again next year."

". . . Thank you," my chest felt warm even as I ducked my face to hide my smile. My coach was really the best.

* * *

> Dear Yuuri,
> 
> Congratulations! It is my pleasure to offer you admission to the Wayne State University in Science for Fall 20XX as a Freshman of 20XX! Since admission to our university is a very selective process, you should take pride in this accomplishment.
> 
> Your response to the offer of admission must be submitted online by May 1, 20XX or mailed and postmarked by May 1, 20XX. Please note that it is your responsibility to read and follow the enclosed Final Requirements sheet. Keep in mind that all offers of admission are _conditional_ upon your continued academic success and completion of the final requirements for admission.
> 
> I look forward to receiving your response to our offer of admission. You can find out more in the enclosed materials, including information on the housing and dining, instructions for accepting your offer, and the list of Final Requirements. If we may provide any additional information, please let us know. I wish to extend to you a warm welcome and best wishes for your success at Wayne State University.
> 
> Sincerely,
> 
> Director of Undergraduate Admissions

* * *

I breathed in. Softly, slowly.

My hands felt ice cold, almost numb despite the hot water bottle Celestino brought for me once again. There were also minute trembles in my limbs, ones that thankfully disappeared as soon as the music began.

With that, my performance started. And like how I had practiced so many times at home, I _moved_.

A spin there, a few connecting steps here. The sway of my hips against the crescendos from the music. Really, when you blocked out the screams from the crowds, it was like any practice session at home.

At least, I had to think that way because if I didn't, I wouldn't be able to nail that Triple Flip . . .

. . . there!

Anyway, even though I didn't make it to the Grand Prix Finale, it didn't mean my season was over already. There were more big and important competitions than just that. So here I was, months later and standing in the ice rink for the Japan Figure Skating Championships.

Was I nervous? Heck yeah.

Was I going to let it stop me from doing my best? Heck no.

Because for the past few months, after my horrible assignments which I would _never speak of again_ , I had practiced my Quad like I was crazy. Well, as crazy as I could be without hurting myself or being reckless. I just didn't want to taste that humiliation again, of falling even though I was supposed to fly. I didn't want to watch Viktor on a screen again, when I could have been cheering for him in person.

I didn't want to _fail_ again.

Thankfully, as a result of pure hard work and determination, my chances of doing a Quad perfectly had gone up exponentially since my assignments for the Grand Prix series. Thus, I somehow managed to ace them during my program at Nationals.

I don't know who was more surprised: me, Celestino, or my fans. In any case, the amount of people I saw crying after my free skate performance was almost astounding.

(I've always wondered who coined my my nickname. _Japan's Ace_. Kind of hard to live up to, wasn't it? Even I felt the crushing pressure when I was feeling down. Knowing what I did about canon!Yuuri, I almost felt sorry for him.

Thankfully, I wasn't him.)

One of my fans waved at me dramatically before throwing a huge pig plushie at the ice. Skating over to pick it up, and also grabbing an absolutely adorable llama plushie (ahh, Japan and their adorable stuffed animals! How lucky I was!), I made my way to the Kiss and Cry. Celestino beamed at me.

"Yuuri!" The man gave me a crushing hug, which, wow, greatly spoke of his happiness. Because ew, with how much I was sweating at that point I wouldn't even want to hug myself. "You did amazing!"

"Thanks," I said softly, still breathless and a bit wide-eyed. I sat down with my coach and gave the camera a pretty smile, my upset stomach rolling crazily like a Ferris wheel.

"!"

And then my results came out. The roar of the crowd felt exhilarating.

"Yuuri," Celestino cheered loudly, even as I blinked in a daze. Was this really happening . . . ? "It's a personal best!"

It was happening. I curled into myself and let out a relieved sob.

_I didn't fail again I didn't fail again I didn't fail again_ ―!

That day, I brought home another shiny gold medal. And for once, it wasn't one from a violin competition.

* * *

It was on one of my better days, where I had finally landed my Quad without becoming a splatter on the ice, did I hear a gasp of wonder and a smattering of applause. Blinking in surprise, because it was rare for my rink-mates to show any awe over my moves now, I turned my head to see one of the cutest kids ever.

Like seriously. Black fluffy hair, tanned skin, and the biggest and cutest eyes. And I thought _I_ was cute.

Celestino was also there. That meant that whoever the kid was, he was probably important. Obediently skating over at the look in my coach's eyes, I came to a stop before the boy.

"Yuuri," Celestino started. "This is Phichit Chulanont. He will be graduating middle school this year, and I have offered to coach him here when he enters high school."

I blinked. And then I blinked again.

W-Whoa. This cutie platootie was Phichit, one of canon!Yuuri's best friends? Then again, that did make sense . . .

"Y-You . . . Yuuri Katsuki . . . ?" Phichit blabbered a bit in what I assumed to be in Thai, before stuttering out a string of English that really didn't make sense. Hearing my name, however, and the question after it made me nod. I didn't know Thai, but I did understand that the boy was asking for my name.

The boy beamed. I wondered why.

"Instagram?" Phichit handed over his phone, showing me his page. Blinking in surprise, I shook my head. I didn't have time for any social media websites.

Phichit pouted, before tapping on his contacts icon. This time, when he gave me his phone, I felt my eyebrow go up. Wow. The guy was forward. Deciding to indulge him, I entered my cell phone number before watching a smile blossom on the boy's face again.

"Thank you!" He said excitedly, even as Celestino proposed to go get dinner together. I agreed easily as I curiously watched my future rink-mate. Phichit was a few years younger than me, but it wasn't long before I was relaxing in his presence. He had this sort of aura, one that made him seem so approachable.

"He looks up to you," Celestino said with amusement colouring his tone as we watched Phichit get swallowed up by the airplane, a few days later. "He was ecstatic when I offered to bring him to your practice."

"What? M-Me?" I felt my face heat up even as my coach ruffled my hair teasingly. Me? Be a role model, someone who people looked up to? How ridiculous.

Though . . . that did explain why Phichit looked so happy when I gave him my phone number. If Viktor gave me his cell phone number, I might just faint from disbelief. Not that would happen, at least not at my current level.

Hmm. As I watched the airplane take off, I closed my eyes and smiled. If anything, next year was going to be interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the support, guys! ;; Every kudo, comment, bookmark really makes my day!  
> And aha, shameless self-advertisement, but please check out my other YOI fic! It's this Gamer!fic, one that I'm having loads of fun with.


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